Blow
by infinitehearts
Summary: In which Ian is the perfect distraction. Ianthony. Oneshot.


**Warnings: Language, strong sexual content**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the boys.**

**A/N: Oneshot. I post all of my Ianthony fics over at my LiveJournal, so I'm just choosing a select few to post over here. **

* * *

Well, now that we're finally, sort of finished, what would you rate this meal, Ian?"

There is a small pause. A smile. "Ninety-seven...sombreros out of a hundred."

Spinning the small camera around to face him, Anthony burps and gives his goofiest grin. "Leave any more suggestions for Ian is Bored below! See you next Thursday! Bye!" He pans back to Ian flipping the bird.

And cut.

The little red light goes black, the darker brunette setting the camera beside his empty plate. Taco Bell never gets old. "How was that?"

"Good," Ian says. He rubs a hand over his stomach, fork toying with the remaining lettuce of his tacos. "I feel like I just ate a fucking semi or something. Next time, I get to pick where we eat."

Anthony leans back in his chair. Scrolls through the long list of Twitter questions, laughing every two seconds. Some of them he couldn't answer. Or he just didn't want to. Then, his phone begins its little routine of singing the Mario Bros. theme song. His mother is calling him. Perfect. "Hello?"

Ian looks up from the floor. He can hear the pep of her voice in the receiver, asking how he's been. A weekly check-up, as the shorter boy would put it.

A light bulb flashes in his head. A smirk finds its way to his mouth. No, he couldn't. Not when Anthony is in the middle of sharing this past week's details with his mom.

Momma's boy, he thinks. But Anthony is due for a little payback for using those words on him all these years. Then again, they never did order dessert...

Silently, Ian slips under the table, hands and knees against soft carpet. Anthony's jeans are so tight and Ian's head is filled with all kinds of lust at the mere thought of it, and goddamn, he's so horny now. Above him, his boyfriend is still caught up in pointless conversation.

"I'm always busy, Mom. I'll go see her next week-Ian, what-"

Suddenly, long fingers are working the buckle of his belt, the damned zipper that manages to get stuck twice.

"Anthony?" His mother's voice is in his ear again, and fuck, he totally forgot that she can hear everything. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he chokes. "I-I'm fine."

"You sure? I can stop over on my way to work-"

"No!" Anthony nearly shouts the word, forcing back a badly needed moan. Ian now has his hand gripped around the taller boy's cock, tugging, tugging, and oh god. This is so not happening. "I swear, everything's perfectly fine."

"Okay..." She sounds unsure. Too unsure. "Just so you know, I'm done at five."

"Yeah. Got it." His heart is hammering like crazy inside his chest, hands sweating so much he almost drops the phone. The warmth of Ian's breath is ghosting across, and then he feels it in its amazing entirety. The lighter brunette wraps lips around the tip, tongue flicking ever so lightly. Works every time.

Anthony's thighs immediately clamp together against Ian's face, and he pulls away.

"Ow!"

"M-mom, I gotta go, okay? Ian and I have to edit a video for Thursday. I'll talk to you later."

As soon as his finger hits the end button, the phone falls onto the wooden table, mouth crying out a frustrated, "Fuck! Ian, you fucking asshole!" His spine arches off the chair, eyes squeezed shut. God, he's so fucking close. Why must his boyfriend tease him like this?

In a matter of seconds, Ian takes him all the way in. Anthony's fingers tangle in his newly combed hair. Pull. It doesn't hurt as much anymore. Ian kind of likes it. More so than the sexy, stuttered way Anthony gasps his name.

His swirls his tongue along the base, fingers continuing their own domination. He has the other boy withering under his touch. And that's all that really matters.

Except for the part where the vibration of Anthony's orgasm is shuddering through Ian's bones and he's never felt so in sync before. He lets the hot, white liquid splash his throat. Coat his chin.

Anthony has to catch his breath. Opens his chocolate eyes. Ian stares up at him with a satisfied smirk, pink tongue darting out to catch the last drops of his boyfriend.

"Fuck you," the darker brunette growls.

Ian straightens to rest his elbows on Anthony's knees, pressing their mouths together. Hard. The shorter boy bites down on the other's bottom lip, pulling. "Anytime."


End file.
